


Dubious Games

by iamisaac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, Power Play, Public Blow Jobs, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6544015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know you shouldn't be fucking James, not when you're his teacher. You don't stop. And, after all, he doesn't want you to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dubious Games

You know it's wrong, carrying on like you do. You know it is, don't you?

Of course you do. It is what adds to the thrill. It's what turns you on – what turns you both on, you and James. The knowledge that everything about what you do is perverted, twisted, unforgivable. Some people play at teacher and pupil. You don't have to, Teddy Lupin. Because that's precisely what you and James Potter are. You're his teacher as well as his lover, in all the glorious dirty wrongness of that situation. And don't you make the most of it? Oh, don't you!

You want examples? You know there are examples. So many filthy, shameless, occasions between you and him.

 

Like the time James took you to his dormitory, sneaking you up there. Refusing to let you use the invisibility cloak - “What would be the fun of that?” he asked, that grin on his face which shows why, as he once confessed secretly to you, the Sorting Hat offered him Slytherin house. He turned it down, and the Hat went with it. Even the bloody Sorting Hat did what Jamie Potter told it. He's that sort of person.

On this particular occasion, he told you what to do. Made you walk through the Gryffindor Common room as if it were normal practice for teachers to barge into student quarters. As if it were normal practice for a Professor to follow a student upstairs to his dorm, let him shut the door – not even put a locking charm on, just shut it – and order you onto the bed.

“Elbows and knees.” He stripped your robes from you, pressing kisses down your spine. “I want you to beg, _Professor Lupin_.”

“Fuck you, Jamie,” you'd whispered, but somehow there you were, naked on his bed, pressed down with your arse exposed.

“Nope, you've got it the wrong way around. I fuck you. Except this time, ask me, and ask me nicely, or I won't.” 

All said in James's mischievous tones, which always turn you on. They did then, too. He knew you'd beg. You knew you would. Little bastard. Total and utter bastard, who knew exactly what got you going.

“Please, James. Please.” 

If 'you little shit' had been the private end of that sentence, you'd known better than to say it out loud. You wanted to get fucked. You wanted James Potter to push you down and fuck you in his school bed. You knew that every time he slept there afterwards, he'd remember having you there. Let him try and think of someone else. Let him try and wank visualising someone else, or even just consider the possibility that there might be anyone other than Teddy Lupin for him. He'd come back to this moment, remember taking you in his very own bed. Making you his. Making him yours, too.

Or there was the time he did indeed use the cloak, sneaking into your classroom when you were holding detention. The first you knew of his presence was when you heard his voice in your ear.

“I'm going to slip under the desk, Teddy, whilst you sit here watching everyone write their lines. Settle between your legs. It's okay, the desk would cover me, even if I wasn't under the cloak. No one will know I'm there – no one but you. No one will know I'm there, sucking your cock as you take detention like the good little Professor you are.”

“No. Don't.” 

But your protest had been weak, and James had known precisely how much notice to take of you. He'd pushed your leg to one side to slide past you, underneath the large, solid teacher's desk. You'd dropped your pen, and then glared with your most teacherly gaze at the couple of students who looked up, wondering what you were doing.

“Back to work,” you'd growled; and heard the smallest of laughs from beneath you.

“Your wish is my command,” James had responded in a whisper, as he slipped down the zip of your trousers, sat himself comfortably under your robes, and begun to give you one of the best blow jobs of your life. 

All the while knowing that you had to sit there, impassive: not shifting in your seat; not groaning; not even changing your facial expression. All the while knowing that you were loving every second, and that when – after the kids had filed out – you dragged him out, pushing him against the wall and swearing vengeance at him, it would be a vengeance he would very much like. 

And he had. He had loved it when you fucked him hard and fast over that very same teacher's desk. You'd listened to the little pleading noises he made as you took him ruthlessly, and taken no notice. Spared no conscience for his age and should-be innocence. Only eighteen, you say? Still a kid? Actually one of your very students, Professor Lupin? Shame, shame upon you.

Jamie could lose you your job. He could do it easily. Lose you your family, too, because the Potters have always been your family. _Had_ always been, till you started fucking their oldest son. James is a very different sort of family to you now, but he's still only a schoolkid. Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world and incidentally your Jamie's father, would string you up for touching him as you do; and Ginny would do worse. Heck, probably Al and Lily would also join in, and if the Weasley uncles and aunts got started, you could be in little pieces before five minutes were up. Even if they didn't go to extremes, you'd be completely fucked, and not in a good way. You wouldn't just be out of Hogwarts, they could make you unemployable in any job. Make sure no one ever went near you again. A leper. A pariah.

And James knows it, the little shit. He knows the power he has. But the thing is, potential Slytherin or not, both he and you know something else. He would never use it. Not ever. Even if – and it makes your chest contract, as if weights have been pressed upon it, even thinking about it – even if you broke up, even if you did so acrimoniously... James would never harm you. He just couldn't do it, no matter what. But you won't break up. You can't. Because twisted or not as your relationship is, whatever dubious games you play, there is one thing that no one knows. The one thing that makes all the difference.

You see, this is love.


End file.
